


Happy Christmas

by finsbury_park



Series: Second Chances [3]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Established Relationship, F/M, Ficlet, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 01:06:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17172935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finsbury_park/pseuds/finsbury_park
Summary: Robin and Strike exchange presents in a sleepy, snowy London.





	Happy Christmas

**Happy Christmas**

A small Christmas tree sat nestled in the corner of the tiny, third floor flat. Strike had been surprised by how much he enjoyed its presence, tiny white lights casting a soft glow over the room, folded paper snowflakes scattered across the branches. Robin had made them one night while they watched a movie.

Strike was beginning to catch on to the fact that Christmas was a big deal for Robin. She’d been planning, baking, carefully quizzing him about present possibilities for Joan and Ted, and humming Christmas carols under her breath in the office. He’d bought the tree on a whim, carrying it back to the flat one evening while Robin was making dinner. She’d been talking about buying one for her apartment, but had decided against it, since they were spending Christmas in Masham, then driving down to Cornwall for New Years. Her face when she saw it was more than enough to make up for the pine sap on his hands and needles all over the stairwell.

Robin sat on the sofa, legs tucked under her, blanket around her shoulders. She wrapped her hands tighter around her mug of cocoa. 

“You're sure you don't want Baileys in that? Whisky?” Strike called from the kitchen. 

“No, I'm good, thanks,” Robin called back. “I want to be fresh for tomorrow, it's going to be a long drive.”

A few moments later, Strike appeared next to the couch, bowl of popcorn in one hand, pint of beer in the other. “Shove over then.” He settled himself next to her, stretching out his legs with a contented sigh. “You talk to your mum?” 

“Mmm, yeah. She’s disappointed, but she didn't want us driving in this weather. Apparently the snow’s not as bad up there. I thought we’d leave bright and early tomorrow, then hopefully we’ll get there in time for lunch. We’ll miss my Dad’s famous waffles though,” she added with a frown. 

Outside the snow fell thickly, piling up on the window sills six inches deep, fluffy and white, reflecting back the glow of the street lamps. London was still and quiet, for once; it was Christmas Eve, and the snow had brought everything to a standstill. 

Strike set down his beer and got up to get something from under the tree. “It's almost midnight, so how about we open our presents?” He handed her a clumsily wrapped package. 

Robin sat up straight and put down her cocoa on the coffee table. “Ooh, yes! Yours is under there too, the striped one.” Strike pulled out a neatly wrapped box, red and white striped paper tied with a silver ribbon. 

“Yours is much nicer. Sorry. Need some wrapping lessons.” He sat down heavily on the sofa. 

Robin smiled, “It’s fine. Want to go first?”

“Okay.” Strike carefully slid the ribbon off the box, and loosened the edges of the tape. 

Robin chuckled. “It’s okay, you can rip it. We’ll be here forever.”

Strike ripped off the rest of the paper, and lifted the lid off the brown box. Moving aside the red tissue paper, he pulled out a soft, blue knitted scarf. 

Robin looked at him expectantly. “My mum had some cashmere wool leftover from a project, and I got her to give me a quick brush-up lesson. I haven’t knit anything for ages, so it’s not very good -”

Strike cut her off with a kiss. She smiled against his mouth. He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “It’s beautiful. I love it.” He wrapped it around his neck, jauntily tossing the end over his shoulder. He looked back down in the box and pulled out a small package wrapped in more tissue paper. He unwrapped it, revealing an ancient, well-used book. He turned it over, looking at the title, embossed in gold letters. He smiled up at Robin, then turned back to the book, flipping it open to the title page. “Robin, this is from 1870, where’d you find it?” 

“It was my great-great grandpa’s, apparently he was a poetry buff, and my dad’s got a small collection of his books. My dad didn’t do enough Latin to read it, and no one else in my family is interested enough in poetry to appreciate it, let alone poetry in Latin from the Roman era. I thought you might like it, but …” She looked up at him, hesitantly, bottom lip caught between her teeth. 

“Robin, this is amazing. I only have a shitty penguin copy from the 70’s, this is a beautiful edition.” He looked up from the book, and gazed into her eyes with great sincerity. “Thank you.”

Robin smiled, sheepishly. “My turn?” She picked up the untidy brown package. She tore a corner of the paper, and the package began to fall apart. 

“Sorry, I did a crap job of that.” Strike grimaced. 

Green silk began to slide out of the package. Robin had a flashback to years earlier, the green Vashti dress sliding into her hands, and she smiled to herself. Pulling a large silk scarf out of the wrapping, she held it up in front of her. It was soft and delicate. “Cormoran, it’s beautiful!” 

“I don’t have the skills to make you a scarf, but I thought the colour would look great on you. Anyway. There’s something else in there.” 

Robin set down the scarf, and pulled a tiny box out of the wrapping. She looked up at him, hesitating. 

“Open it,” Strike said gently. 

Robin lifted the lid on the tiny box, and pulled aside the tissue paper. Inside was a delicate gold chain, with small diamonds set every few inches. She looked at him, eyes wide. “It's beautiful, Cormoran.” She picked it up and held it to her neck. Strike reached over, and she turned away from him, lifting her hair up from her neck so he could fasten the clasp. She turned back to him, eyes shining. 

“It was my mum’s. One of the only things she didn't pawn, not really sure why. Anyway, Aunt Joan was holding on to it, she gave Lucy some earrings, and this to me.” He gestured at the necklace. “Told me it was my Grandma’s, not that I ever met her… I remember my mum wearing it, when I was really little. I got it fixed up and cleaned, I'd like to give it to you. If you’d like it.” He was rambling, nervous and looking from Robin’s face down into his lap.

Robin looked at him, this giant man with such a rough exterior, and the meaning behind this gesture washed over her. “Thank you, Cormoran,” she replied softly. “I would love to have it.” She put her hand up to her neck to touch the necklace, and felt a tear prickle in the corner of her eye. 

Cormoran gazed at her. “She would have liked you. A lot. My mum.” 

Robin felt a tear slide down her face. Strike reached up and brushed it away with his thumb. She leaned into him and kissed him on the mouth, full and full of meaning. She reached her hands into his curls, pulling him closer. 

Strike wrapped his arms tighter around her, breaking off the kiss and nuzzling into her neck. “There's one more present I want to unwrap,” he murmured, into her red-gold hair. 

“What?” 

“You.” His hands ran over her back, slipping under her sweater. 

Robin laughed and pulled him even closer. “I love you, Cormoran Blue Strike.”

Muffled, from where he was still nestled into her neck, came the reply. “I love you too, Robin Venetia Ellacott.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Christmas! Too much mulled wine and cookies, it put me in a Christmas mood. Now I'll get back to finishing that other piece.


End file.
